


Grungebelle

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 3 Sentence prompts, 90's grunge rumbelle, F/M, Yes that one - Freeform, the one where Gold's a rocker and Belle's a groupie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle meets her idol, grunge rocker Rum Gold, backstage after a concert. What happens changes both their lives. Or, That 90’s Grunge Rumbelle AU, A (Mostly) Three Sentence Prompt Fic That Got Way Out of Control and I Have no Idea Why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grungebelle

**Author's Note:**

> This all started last August when I got a prompt from a 3 Sentence Promptathon on Tumblr for a 90's Grunge AU. The story sort of got out of control, but it was great fun to write. This is everything I've written for it compiled into one long post for easy reading.
> 
> An [ask](http://endangeredslug.tumblr.com/post/126352560523/im-the-anon-who-prompted-the-90s-verse-honestly) about clothing.
> 
> A [gorgeous picture set](http://rowofstars.tumblr.com/post/141661370987/grungebelle-rumbelle-by-endangeredslug-belle) made by the fabulous rowofstars!

Belle screamed with the crowd as she watched her idol, Rum Gold, rip through another guitar solo. Her friends had long abandoned her after they found some boys with a baggie full of shit that was barely worth smoking, but Belle had stayed put, having waited months for this concert. They could go off with those boys, _she_ was going to sneak backstage and have a hit off Gold.

*

The crowd was thick, but Belle was small and limber and she had a friend who had a friend who knew someone that told her that the handle to the backstage door out in the alley was broken and not due to be fixed for another three days. All she had to do was slip out the front, jump the fence in the back, shimmy open the door and walk in like she belonged there. It worked beautifully until she got to the door with Rum Gold’s name on it and she heard the loud giggling of other girls who’d made it ahead of her.

*

Belle froze, hand on the sticky doorknob as she listened with ever-growing dismay at the sound of tittering on the other side of the door. She hadn’t even considered this scenario in all of her contingency planning and she felt so stupid because of course he’d already have a bunch of girls in there with him — he was probably underneath a pile of them already, all naked and… without her.

She could join them, but Belle didn’t want to be the third or fourth to have a go, she wanted to be the first (second at most) and, if she was quite honest with herself, the only, but even she knew that was an unrealistic fantasy.

“Going in, dearie?” asked a familiar voice that sent shivers up from her toes and straight to places that thrummed with need. She’d touched herself to the sound of that voice, had done so for years, and hearing it in person was even better than she’d envisioned.

“ _I_ wouldn’t go in, but _you’re_ welcome to join the hoard.”

Belle whirled around with a gasp and came face to face with an irritated and slightly drunk Rum Gold.

*

Okay, this was… this was _good_ , Belle thought, her mind going completely blank now that she was faced with her idol.

“I don’t think I’ll be going in,” she said carefully. “It’s too crowded.”

“Don’t blame you,” he slurred, shaking his head as he stared at her shoulder. “Bunch of manky vultures in there, just want to… _fuck_ a rock star so they can brag to their stupid manky friends. Don’t even care about me, just bragging rights s’all.”

Belle’s stomach dropped, because she was also in the market to fuck a rock star, though she had no plans to brag about it and he probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him how much she cared. He would chalk it up to hero worship at best when she actually felt a lot more than that — quite a lot more in fact. From the sound of it, he’d been used too many times and probably at first he’d done his fair share of using, but now it was another day at the office.

Shit.

Belle scratched the side of her arm, thinking fast. “Um… You wanna go get a coffee or something?” she asked.

*

Turned out Gold wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, something of a rarity in Seattle, so Belle took him to a The Rolling Scone which served a decent tea with their flakey scones.

He was hunched over his cup, bleary-eyed but more more sociable than he was just an hour before and Belle watched him as he became more alert with every passing moment.

He looked at her though the long waterfall of his hair that hung over his face and spoke the words she’d been dreading to hear, “So, what were you doing backstage anyway, dearie?”

*

Belle chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated the handsome man in front of her. “I-I was planning on fulfilling a fantasy actually,” she confessed sliding down her seat a couple of inches, using her teacup as a shield. She could just see his eyes over the rim and they widened with surprised at her truthfulness before narrowing again as he smirked at her.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, dearie,” he said before drinking the last of his tea.

“I didn’t say you disappointed me,“ she told him, straightening up once more. “And my name’s Belle.”

*

He blinked at her, staring mutely and with an indescribable look on his face before he leaned over the table, arms crossed in front of him, and, eyes slipping closed, kissed her sweetly on the mouth.

Belle made an indistinct noise and lost her grip on the small cup she was holding as she clutched at him, her fingers zeroing straight for his floofy hair — softer than she’d imagined as it slipped through her fingers as he pulled away, a dazed look on his face and breathing heavily.

“It’s good to meet you, Belle.”

 

*

Belle blinked slowly, a dreamy smile spreading across her lips as Gold pulled away, a giddy feeling bubbling up from her toes and settling at the base of her throat where it then emerged as a breathy giggle. She opened her mouth to say something — “thank you,” maybe or “can I have another?” or, most likely, an incoherent string of syllables, but just as she remembered how to use her mouth for anything other than kissing, she noticed her teacup lying on its side next to the saucer.

She picked it up, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, the taste of Gold still lingering there. “Oh, no,” she said. “It’s chipped.”

Gold looked at it then at her eyes, clearly confused about her reaction.

“It’s just a cup,” he said.

*

Belle gripped the cup in her hands, all hot and kind of sweaty now that they were walking back to her car and her dream night was coming to an end. “Thanks for buying the cup for me,” she said, softly.

The corners of his mouth quirked up as he shrugged mildly, his eyes on the toes of her Doc Martens before he took a deep breath and blurted out, “Don’t suppose you want to come back to my hotel?”

*

The Mayflower was old-fashioned and fancy enough to employ a discreet doorman who didn’t even blink at the sight of Belle’s cut offs and ripped black tights. They stood at the elevator doors giving each other shy smiles as they waited, and he took her hand after a moment’s hesitation, cradling it within his.

When he jumped her in the elevator, Belle hoped the handful of condoms she’d stuffed in her backpack would be enough.

 

*

Belle knew she was setting herself up for massive disappointment, knew that Gold might be a terrible lover, that she’d built up too much of an expectation in her mind that he was bound to fall short of what she’d dreamed of for years. He could be selfish or brutish or not care one whit about her pleasure.

She knew all that, but she still jumped feet first into this thing because, after the way he’d looked at her with a fire in his eyes that she only saw in videos of him performing on stage, she knew — _knew_ — that she wouldn’t regret one second of this night.

She didn’t expect him to become speechless and shy after she’d peeled off the last of her clothes (why had she worn so many layers?). She didn’t expect the look of longing in his eyes or the brief glimpse of fear as he slowly unbuckled his jeans, or how he hunched over a bit once he was finally, finally gloriously naked in front of her. She was so turned on that words were beyond her so she tried to show him how much she found him attractive with her fingers and mouth.

In the end, he played her as beautifully as he played his guitar.

*

They’d used two condoms before collapsing in a sweaty heap on top of each other, legs entwined together and chests heaving, and stupid grins spread across both their faces.

Oh, yeah. Fantasy fucking fulfilled.

Definitely worth it, Belle thought. So worth it. No regrets.

A small part of her ached knowing this was a temporary thing, but she went in with the knowledge that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. One night and that was it. But, now that she’s had a taste of Rum Gold (and he lingered on in her mouth), she didn’t know if anyone else could compare. She’d probably just ruined her future sex life for good.

Worth it. Fuck everything else, this had been her best idea ever.

Their euphoria was shattered by the phone ringing, it’s shrill cry shattering the early morning silence. Gold opened a bleary eye and, hand flopping around the side table, knocked the receiver off the hook. He cursed under his breath, something accented and unintelligible to Belle’s ears then grabbed it.

“The fuck you want?” He growled into the phone and Belle felt a heat grow deep in her belly at the sound of his rough voice saying filthy things. It had done a number on her an hour earlier and the novelty hadn’t worn off. She squirmed and inched her hand down, down towards his cock, hoping to tease him a bit while he dealt with the inconsiderate person on the other end, but the vitriol that came out of his mouth next stopped her hand just as it touched the soft skin of his balls.

“You fucking bitch, Milah! You have no right to keep Bae from me! I don’t care that your plans changed, you fucking harpy, this is _my_ time with him, you hear me?”

The woman on the other end was screaming loud enough for Belle to hear, but what she was saying was beyond her understanding. Whatever it was drove Gold into a burst of absolute rage, his speech devolving into a spitting Scottish dialect that became increasingly more violent.

He ripped the phone from the socket and threw it at the wall opposite the bed, creating a jagged hole in the drywall. Hunched over, he held his head in his hands as his shoulders heaved with dry sobs.

Belle had sat up against the headboard, knees tucked under her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs as she watched the man she’d idolized gradually grow into a state of frenzied grief. She licked her lips as she watched him with wide eyes, ready to flee at the first sign of violence, but he only grabbed at his hair and yanked at it, trying to tear it out at the roots.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “I have every right to see my boy.”

Slowly, she straightened out her legs and then, understanding that he was more sad than angry and that his anger wasn’t directed at her, he needed comfort more than anything. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, taking his hands from his hair and holding them close to his chest in a warm embrace.

He startled at her touch, no doubt having forgotten she was there. “I’m sorry,” he said, simply and Belle rest her cheek against his back, wanting to bring comfort to this broken man.

“Says she’s taking him down to Mexico for the holidays, court order be damned.” He heaved a shaky sigh and gently loosened her grip so he could stand up, talking wildly as he pulled on his jeans.“I gotta get to Portland for their layover. I have three hours. Three fucking hours to get to the airport. _Fuck_ , I was just _there_ , coulda met them two nights ago— she has my fucking schedule, knows _exactly_ where I’m gonna be and when, but no, she fucks with me every fucking time. I was supposed to have Bae for Christmas,” he said, looking at her with his eyes bright with tears. “It’s my turn for Christmas this year. I was gonna — gonna take him skiing.”

Belle gaped at him, then as his words slowly came into focus in her brain, she hopped out of bed and yanked on her clothes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, about this, Belle,” he said, looking around for his shirt, unable to meet her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, just get dressed,” she told him, firmly. “I’m driving you down.”

*

He stared at her open mouthed as he watched her shrug into her over-sized flannel shirt. 

“And what do you get from it, dearie?” he asked with suspicion.

Belle looked up from buttoning up her shirt. “Nothing.”

*

They were on their way down I-5 heading south before the coffee shops were open so they filled up their bellies and Belle’s tiny Geo Tracker at a 7-11 just south of Tacoma. Portland wasn’t far, but getting into the airport might take longer than they needed so they were in and out of the convenience store like a couple of cat burglars on a heist.

The rain had settled into a steady drizzle and the wipers kept time as Gold, facing towards her, told her all about his boy Bae and what they were planning to do over the Christmas break.

*

Portland was just as damp as Seattle, but they found the airport without any trouble with just twenty minutes to spare. Belle’s car came to a screeching halt outside the curbside baggage check and called out as Gold opened the door, ready to run for it, “You go, I’ll park the car and meet you inside!”

She didn’t know if he’d even heard or, or if they’d ever meet again, but, as she pulled back out into the driving lane and went in search of the parking, she hoped he made it to his son in time.

*

The security line was blessedly short, but, just as she’d gone through, a harassed-looking rep from the airport scurried through, flashing her badge at the security officers and headed towards the gates. When she picked up her backpack from the conveyer belt and turned the corner, she could hear Gold yelling at a tall, leggy brunette who was red-faced and brimming for a fight.

Belle’s stomach dropped as his word became clearer, “What do you mean he’s missing?”

*

A missing child in an airport sent security into a tizzy, but Belle stayed next to Rum as the airport went into lockdown mode, holding onto his hand lest he strangle his ex-wife further complicating the matter. They were both screaming until their faces were red and their veins popped dangerously on their temples, but Belle just stood there, like a rock, waiting for someone to take charge of the couple and either let them duke it out or separate them entirely. 

She was the only one who saw the tiny head peek out from behind the jetway doors before disappearing again.

*

Belle ran towards the tiny figure and crouched down before him, coaxing him out with a promise that his papa was here for him and that he didn’t have to go to Mexico after all.

Bae was small for his age, but trusting, and allowed Belle to wipe away his tears before leading him back out towards his parents.

Their relief was palpable, but short-lived as once again, Milah turned on Gold and lashed out at him using calling him every name in the book, causing Belle to cover Bae’s ear with her hands, though she realized with dismay that this wasn’t the first time the boy had heard his mother verbally abuse his father.

*

“Who the hell is she?” Milah asked, looking at Belle with disgust. “You expect me to allow you to take my son when you’re hooked up with some harlot?”

Belle knew she looked like she’d had a wild night with no sleep and a lot of sex and was dressed for an epic walk of shame, but Milah had proven to be bitch of the highest order — using her son to hurt her ex-husband like that, even if it hurt Bae in the process and so her opinion meant less than nothing as far as Belle was concerned.

Gold looked at Belle just as she turned her head to him, both of them incapable of admitting that she was, in fact, no one in particular, both a ride on a mattress and in a car, then something in the way his eyes softened towards her made her feel better about everything.

“I’m the nanny,” she said slowly.

*

Milah put up a fuss, but Belle stood firm, insisting that Gold had hired her to look after Bae, but it wasn’t until Gold had threatened to call his lawyer that Milah backed off, allowing him to take their son for the Christmas break as the courts had decreed.

She made a huge show of saying goodbye to Bae, but the boy clung to his father and so she stomped off with a security detail who escorted her to her plane, which she’d effectively delayed for forty-five minutes.

They had their own security detail, who were polite, but ready to see the last of them, especially as they’d drawn a large crowd of onlookers and, no doubt, this whole thing would be blown up out of proportion by the afternoon with their pictures splashed on the tabloids — Leno might even make it part of his act one of them mentioned— but the look of happiness on Gold’s face made it all worth it.

She fiddled with her keys awkwardly, not wanting to intrude on their moment, but Bae was dressed for winter in Cabo, not the Pacific Northwest and he was beginning to shiver.

Gold looked at her, his warm brown eyes shining with joy, “Thank you, Belle,” he said. “I truly would have been lost without you.”

She shrugged humbly, her hands in her back pockets as she surveyed the line up of cars waiting to drop passengers off. “You, um, need a ride back then?” she asked, hopefully.

The light in his eyes dimmed slightly as he shook his head. “Bae needs a booster. I’ll, uh, rent a car and a seat for him here and drive him up after breakfast.” He looked at his son critically. “And maybe some warmer clothes.”

Belle’s smile felt fake, but she flashed it at him anyway, not wanting him to know how much she would miss him. “Yeah, that’s alright then. I’ve got to get back anyway. Got my own flight to catch tonight,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder like a dork. “Holidays with my dad back in Maine, you know.” She wrapped her arms around herself before remembering the small boy looking up at her in confusion. “It was very nice meeting you, Bae,” she said, kneeling down in front of the boy for a hug before whispering in his ear, “You take care care of your papa now.”

She stood up and stared at Gold awkwardly. “I guess I’ll, uh…” ‘See you around’ wasn’t the right words since it was a one time thing and he was only in Seattle briefly, but thanking him for the night of sex in front of his son seemed crass. And she didn’t want to thank him, she wanted to keep him. And his son.

Gold looked at her forlornly. “I don’t suppose you’d want—”

She held up her hands and stopped him. “No, I don’t need gas money, thanks, I got it covered.” She bobbed her head up and down a few times in a facsimile of a nod, but she felt more like a puppet on strings, doing and saying things that felt unnatural.

He stepped back then, abashed by her words, then did his own nodding and bobbing bit. “Fine then. Happy Christmas, Belle,” he told her, voice breaking.

“Yeah, same to you… Rum.” She gave him a tiny smile before resolutely turning around and then, after she was sure she was out of sight, ran towards the parking structure.

The drive back to Seattle was slow and silent and there was more wetness on her cheeks than on the windshield as she wondered what Gold had been about to say.

*

The first thing Gold did was put in a call to his lawyer, both to see what can legally be done custody wise with Bae and to get the ball rolling on a personal project of his that had just cropped up.

“No, no,” he said, holding a finger to his ear to keep the sound of the mall at a minimum. “Her name is _Belle_. No, I don’t know her last name. Just Belle, lives in Seattle, has family in Maine. She has… brown hair, beautiful blue eyes and an accent  you wouldn’t soon forget. Australian, I think. Yeah.”

The second thing he did was have the band’s manager pick up his things at the hotel. Seattle was their last stop in their tour and, as far as he was concerned, his work was done until it was time to get back into the studio for their next album. He had to pay extra for the hole in the wall and he’d been cordially invited to never return to the Mayflower again, but Gold didn’t care. He could buy the Mayflower if he wanted.

The third thing he did was book two tickets to Maine. He’d heard that the skiing there was choice.

*

“Hey, Belle! Where’d you disappear to last night?” Rory asked when Belle finally dragged herself into her apartment at five o’clock in the afternoon.

Belle, stopped, guiltily, her boots in one hand and her house key in the other. She’d have tried to pass it off as having already left in the morning to run errands if she wasn’t wearing the same clothes she’d worn the night before minus the tights.

“Met a guy,” she said, her lips quirking up despite herself. Her hair was hanging limply in front of her face, but she knew that her roommate could see the telltale blush that heated her face.

Rory’s jaw dropped and she plopped her giant mug of coffee on the battered kitchen table with a clatter. “You’re kidding! You went off and had sex with a _stranger_? _You_?”

Belle’s smile broadened noticeably. “I suppose I did.”

“Did you use protection? Are you okay? What happened? Who was it?”

Belle looked up at the ceiling, ready to laugh and cry all at once. “Yes, we used protection. I’m fine. Very fine, actually. I just turned around and met him and we hit it off, you know?” She bit her lip and looked away. Telling her friend who she’d been with was out of the question. Her night with Gold was private and new and still raw, but she didn’t want to lie either.

“Please tell me you know his name,” Rory scolded .

“Yeah, I do, it’s just… It’s like a one time thing.”

Her roommate deflated and tsked before perking up with a grin, “So how was it? You have to at least tell me the details.”

Belle paused before her bedroom door and looked over her shoulder. “It was perfect,” she said with a sad smile before she opened her door and slipped inside.

*

One of the perks of being rich and famous was the incredible amount of power that came along with it. Gold had been in Sugarloaf for two days watching Bae stumble along the bunny slopes when his lawyer called him back with the needed information.

It took another three days before he gathered up the courage to do something with it.

*

There were three people that fit his vague description of Belle in both Washington and Maine and his lawyer had him in contact with a PI, who overnighted the dossiers to his hotel. He had the files open and spread out on the table while Bae ate his breakfast. The first two pictures were clearly not the right person so he set them aside, meaning to have the information shredded — maybe he’d let Bae practice his scissoring skills on them — but the last one, a Miss Belle French from Storybrooke, Maine and currently majoring in Library Science at the University of Washington, was exactly who he was looking for. Bae grabbed the photo from his dad’s fingers.

“I liked her,” he said, his mouth stuffed with cereal. “She didn’t yell.”

*

One of the drawbacks of being a rich and famous rock star was that he was often away from his son, something that he bitterly regretted every day he was apart from him. He’d missed a lot of Bae’s firsts: his first smile, his first steps, and his first birthday thanks to a world wide tour and an acrimonious ex-wife who refused to let him have visitation when courts decided.

He stayed in touch with Bae through nightly phone calls and it was rare when Gold missed a scheduled call. He’d missed one the night he’d met Belle, which was what made him go for the scotch in the first place. Of course, now he knew exactly why Bae didn’t answer the phone, his mom had dragged him on flight after flight just to tease Gold with the possibility that he might be able to get to Portland in time to pick him up. He’d looked up the flight times, there was no way she needed to fly to Portland unless it was done with malicious intent and with Milah, everything was done maliciously.

Bae was a sweet boy and Gold had wanted full custody of him from the start, but he was denied by the courts. They were supposed to share custody fifty percent of the time, but Milah had managed to subvert the court and toe the line of being in contempt with every passing month.

He’d gone through lawyer after lawyer and had researched family law so much that he may as well have passed the bar exam himself, but Milah was crafty, spending much of her time out of the country, dragging Bae along with her.

He was school age now though, which meant he needed to be in school, which meant that Gold would have been able to see him every week if it wasn’t for the blasted tour starting up before summer. Gold nearly quit — it would have been worth it, but he had a contract and the record execs didn’t take his waning enthusiasm for music very well. Different lawyers were called and lawsuits were threatened before he gave in and did the damn tour, missing out on his son’s first day of school, the Thanksgiving pageant, _and_ Donuts with Dad.

This Christmas was supposed to make up for all of that. Impossible to achieve, but he had to try. He didn’t want Bae to look back on his childhood and have a great, big blank where his dad should have been. They had plans to ski, to roast marshmallows and pop corn in the fireplace, and open presents by a big tree while their cabin was surrounded by fresh snow.

Their cabin came furnished with a piano and Bae had shown aptitude with plinking notes out on  the keyboard so when they weren’t out in the snow, they were warming their hides inside, composing songs. Bae had an idea of making an album just like his dad, and Gold, ready to indulge his boy in everything, called a friend who had a recording studio in Rochester. They would have a small record before New Year’s Eve.

Gold flipped open Belle’s file and took note of her father’s address then looked back at the bare corner by the fireplace that was just begging for a Christmas tree.

It was about time he made some Christmas wishes comes true.

*

Belle stood, mechanically going through the motions as she helped her dad with the last of the Christmas wreaths, normally something she found soothing in its repetitiveness, but this year she was about as content as…as someone who’d found everything she’d always wanted then left it behind.

She could kick herself. There was no way to get into contact with Rum Gold. She didn’t give him her number or even her last name for goodness’ sake and it’s not like she gave him time to give her his either. She’d run off, feeling out of place and she’d regretted it ever since.

Maybe it was better this way. At least she had her night, had gotten to know the real Rum Gold, not just the public persona she’d worshiped since she was in high school. The real man was layered and complex and so much more than just a guy who played the guitar like an angel… if angels even played guitars.

At least now, without having exchanged information, she wouldn’t be sitting next to the phone waiting for a call that never came. Her heart won’t get broken because there were no promises made. _Simpler, really, running away,_ she told herself as she tied a big, golden bow at the top of the wreath she was working on.

“That’s the fifth gold bow you’ve used, sunshine,” he father said, coming up behind her to inspect her handiwork. “Got something on your mind?” he asked as he gently took it off the table to place it in a special box that was waiting for it.

Belle smiled at him, a genuine one this time. There was no way she could tell her father about what was troubling her, but she was grateful that he’d noticed that something was wrong.

“I’m fine, Papa,” she assured him, pulling some evergreen branches towards her and gathering them in a bunch before tying them firmly to the next wire frame in her pile. “Just thinking.”

“That’s my Belle, always got something important on her mind. Always thinking. Always learning,” he said with his chest puffed out with pride. “Told the folks back at Nana’s about how you got published in the school paper. Couldn’t have been more proud of you if you were their own.”

Her father beamed at her before shuffling off to the front with the stack of wreaths she’d finished. She watched him leave, her heart full of love and hurt and something that made it ache in a way that made her wished she’d stayed in Seattle, but her papa needed her and loved her and understood her sometimes and, after her heartache passed, he would still be there for her. Her rock.

The front door chimed as a customer came stamping in from the cold and she heard her father’s jovial greeting, big and boisterous and full of Christmas cheer, reverberate through to the back. She shook her head with a smile, concentrating on her work when a familiar accent stopped her mid-tie. She dropped the greenery in her hand and, heart thumping in her throat, she ran to the doorway to come find Rum Gold, cheeks reddened from the cold and snowflakes melting in his hair, telling her father that he was in desperate need of a Christmas tree for his cottage.

Little Bae peeked out from behind his knees. “There she is, Papa!”

*

he man looked vaguely familiar to Moe, but, as he was bundled up to his chin and wore a beanie cap over his too long hair, it took a moment for him to recognize that the man standing before him, tiny tot in tow, was the same man whose posters had graced his daughter’s walls when she still lived at home.

He looked a lot different without the flannel and guitar and the smile he wore completely changed his face.

He turned to his daughter who was currently rendered speechless as she stared, both hands pressed over her mouth, at her idol. “Sunshine? Is this why the gold bows?”

She glanced at him in confusion, “What?”

“The bows on the wreaths,” he said, pointing to the last one he’d collected sitting on the counter.

She laughed awkwardly. “Um… yeah, I’m…” She shook her head a bit, trying to shake off her embarrassment then looked at Gold. “You’re, uh… hi.” The smile that spread across her face spoke volumes.

“Hey,” Gold said and if Moe was any judge of character, he’d have bet his shop that the man was head over heels for his baby girl. Of course, Belle was wonderful, but Gold had a reputation that had reached even Moe’s rusty ears.

The boy popped out again from behind Gold’s knees. “We’re here for a Christmas tree!” he yelled.

Moe chuckled. “We don’t sell Christmas trees, lad. We’re a florist, not a nursery.”

Belle shot him a desperate look and stepped forward. “But I know of a good cut your own place just up the road a bit.”

Gold nodded, pretending to think about it while the little boy yanked on his jacket. “And do you know of a place where we can find an axe?” he asked.

Belle giggled, something Moe hadn’t heard since she was a teenager.

“You’re welcome to borrow our handsaw.”

“I see,” Gold said.

“Papa, what about Christmas?”

Gold glanced down at his son quickly before looking back at Belle with a mild panic. “I think Belle will be busy for Christmas, Bae. I told you she might be,” he said gently.

“But, Papa!”

Belle whipped her apron off with practiced ease and threw it by the cash register. “I’ll go with you to get the tree,” she told them. “Just let me go grab my coat,” she said before disappearing into the back room once more. She had it in a flash and was still shrugging it on with Bae holding onto one hand while Gold held the door open for them.

“See you later, Dad!” she called over her shoulder as she left.

They’d forgotten the handsaw.

Moe knew how impulsive his girl could be and had a gut feeling that he would be seeing both Gold and Bae on his doorstep for Christmas dinner. He’d have to hit the toy store after work and pick up a few things for the boy. No doubt he already had everything he could want and his father probably had a pile of gifts stashed someplace, but it wouldn’t be Christmas without presents.

*

Belle led the way through the tree farm while Gold with Bae on top of his shoulders followed behind. Bae, being able to see farther gave directions as to where he thought the best trees were.

“So, how big are you thinking?” Belle asked as she trudged through snow up to her calves.

“Nothing flashy, I think. Something quiet and meaningful with our family around to celebrate with us,” Gold said, absently as he tried to dodge Bae’s boot which seemed to have zeroed in on his nose.

Belle came to a slow stop and turned around to face him with her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, you’re talking about a tree?”

Gold blinked, then coughed into his gloved hand. “I meant the tree, of course. Our cottage is small so nothing over seven feet I think.”

Belle cocked her head to the side then shook it helplessly. “That’s small?”

Gold would have shrugged except then he would have dislodged his son off his shoulders. “It’s comfortable. Cozy. There’s a fireplace and, uh, blankets.”

“Blankets?” she asked, biting back a smile.

“Yeah. They’re good for snuggling.”

“Papa’s good at that!” Bae said from his perch. “Whenever I have a bad dream I call him up and he stays on the phone with me and sings me a song.”

Gold gave a sheepish smile then turned down a fresh lane where the trees were still covered in snow. No one had been down there that day.  

“Which resort are you staying at?” Belle asked, following behind.

“ _Sugarbread_!” Bae called out with glee as he bounced along on his father’s shoulders.

“Wait, you’re at Sugarloaf?” Belle exclaimed. “But that’s four hours away! You drove all that way just to—”

Gold stopped short. “This tree looks good,” he said, avoiding Belle’s gaze.

She barely glanced at it. “It’s lopsided.”

“It’s going in a corner, no one will notice.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. “How did you know where I was?” was the obvious first question so she started with that.

Gold gave her a hunted look before taking a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I, uh, made some calls.”

“Some calls?” she asked, incredulously.

“Pretty much. You said you would be in Maine so…” he spread his hands before quickly grabbed a hold of his son’s legs again.

She stared at him open mouthed. This couldn’t be happening. The rock star never went after the groupie, not outside of the blisteringly bad stories she’d written in her composition books.

“You came here… for me?” she whispered.

“I realize it seems a bit stalkery, but… I wanted to see you again.” he licked his lips quickly. “If that’s not what you wanted then, yeah, I understand.”

Bae stopped trying to kick his dad’s nose at that point and started kicking the snow off the tree, sending the icy stuff down onto their heads.  

Belle held out her hands to lift Bae off his shoulders and when she had the boy in her arms and facing away, she quickly kissed Gold on the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you found me.”

*

“You’re sure your dad won’t mind,” Gold asked as he poured the popcorn out of the pan and into the large ceramic bowl on the floor. Belle had threaded a large, blunt crewel needle with some yarn and was showing Bae how to alternate stringing popcorn and cranberries onto it to make a garland.

“He’s just wrapping up a few things at the shop and will be here tomorrow. All the special orders have been delivered and he’ll probably show up here with his truck stuffed with garlands and wreaths to decorate.” She smiled up at him, after eyeing his colorful socks. “It’ll be an old-fashioned Christmas.”

Bae beamed up at his dad, holding up the strand he’d been working on. “Belle said Santa knows where I’ll be, but I told her I’m not worried since he found me in Bali last year.” He put down the strand and grabbed a handful of popcorn to shove into his mouth.

Gold’s smile grew brittle at the reminder that Bae had been taken out of the country the Christmas before. “Yeah, Santa knows where to find you.”

Alarmed, Belle hopped up from the floor, slapping at the seat of her pants. “Uh, how about we stop making the garland for now and make salt dough ornaments instead. We can bake them tonight and paint them in the morning after your skiing lesson.”

Bae’s eyes lit up at the mention of salt and dough. “Cool! Mom never lets me get messy!”

Belle looked at Gold, helplessly. “Well, you know, I’m not your mom, so you can get as messy as your dad will let you, I guess.”

“I know,” he said, brightly. “You’re my nanny. You said so at the airport.”

*

Gold stood in the doorway with wide, awe-struck eyes as he surveyed the disaster area of his kitchen. Belle had measured out the flour and salt, letting Bae pour them each into the bowl, but once the water was added and he got stirring, it looked like a bomb went off at a bakery.

Even during his wildest days he’d never left a room looking this bad. Gold smiled a bit, wondering if this mess would get leaked out to the press and what spin they would try to make of it. Nothing flattering — the press never were, not to him. His temper tantrum back in Seattle and the resulting hole in the wall had gotten him a write up and a nasty diatribe by some talking head, but even if he could explain the reason for it, he wouldn’t. He was a private person, always had been, which was why Belle’s presence in the cottage kitchen with his son was a puzzling thing. Well, it would be if it didn’t feel so right.

He felt the pull of lyrics wanting to be written, just out of grasp, but there just the same. He liked to let the idea percolate before he sat down with a pencil and paper.

Now, she was showing Bae how to use a wine bottle to roll out the dough and a water glass to cut them out. He was as enthusiastic cutting out circles as he was stirring the dough and Gold made a mental note to have cookie cutters with them next Christmas. It would be a new tradition.

This was a heart-warming thought until he remembered that next Christmas Bae would be with his mother.

*

“I’m sorry about that,” Gold said in a low voice after Bae had been installed in the bathtub and Belle carefully wiped the table free of any stray salt dough bits. “I’ll explain to him in the morning that you aren’t his nanny.”

Belle sighed heavily and slapped the dish towel onto the tabletop. “I feel horrible now for lying. I didn’t even think, it just came out.”

“It was pretty brilliant. Completely defused the situation and bought me time to get Bae.” He smiled cheekily. “And it was fun to see Milah turn purple.”

“You think he’ll be mad at me?” she asked with a worried frown.

“I doubt it. Bae’s used to people coming in and out of his life — his mum goes through men like water. It doesn’t even register with him any more I don’t think.”

“And with you?” she asked, in a small voice. “Are there a lot of people coming in and out of your life?”

“No,” he said, after a moment. “There hasn’t really been anyone in my life. I usually don’t—” He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I usually don’t allow anyone into my life at all let alone Bae’s. I, uh, had your father’s address for three days before I could talk myself into driving down to see you,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t think you were the type to… sleep with someone famous just to sleep with them, but I didn’t know if I could risk it.” He looked back up at her, brown eyes searching hers for a sign that he hadn’t made a mistake.

Belle sat on the table, knees weak and swallowed heavily. “What made you decide to come see me?” she asked.

The corners of his lips quirked upwards in a sweet smile. “I thought you were worth the risk.”

*

Moe had been in the floral business a long time. He’d seen everything from joyful weddings, sorrowful funerals, and sweaty proms and he could recognize a couple of lost souls who longed for a family when he saw one, so when Belle called him up from a pay phone, he’d figured that their Christmas plans had changed, perhaps permanently.

There was little for him to do at the shop and he was closing early for the holidays anyway. Christmas Eve day had always been spent with family, same as Christmas itself, but there was always room in their lives for more family, he figured and as soon as he hung up, he began to take stock of what he could bring.

He had some unsold garlands that would look good draped over a fireplace and the doorways and one of the wreaths Belle had made up for the door. With the extra ribbon and wire and tacks and holly, they could have the cottage at Sugarloaf looking like something out of a Hallmark card in no time.

Moe hesitated, then with a sigh, grabbed a sprig of mistletoe to complete it.

 

*

When Moe arrived after dinner he came bundled up to his eyeballs and bearing packages in his large arms.

Almost immediately he and Belle, with the help of Bae, got started in decorating the place with clean smelling fir branches that made Christmas feel like it was something special instead of just another day to get through. Being with Bae would have made this year’s celebration worth remembering, but Belle and her Father brought a warmth that he didn’t know was missing in his life until he saw them stapling garlands to the doorframe.

Bae did his best, learning how to pick out the freshest greenery for decorations and he went at it with enthusiasm, strewing every flat surface with branches and soon he was giving his expert opinion on the merits of Douglas fir versus scotch pine.

The Frenches had things well in hand having done this dozens of times in their lives and their well-choreographed routine was only hindered by Gold getting in the way as he tried to help.

Moe stopped what he was doing and said, “We’re used to this, son. We’ll have it done in no time.”

“I feel bad letting you do all the work while I do nothing though.”

“You could sing. I hear you’re pretty good at that,” Moe said with a sly look out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t think that would be obnoxious do you?”

Moe outright guffawed. “No more obnoxious than a florist taking over the decorating at someone else’s home. Go on, boy, and show us what you’ve got. Besides, Belle would like it.”

That was all it took for Gold to open the tinny piano and serenade them with every Christmas carol he knew. He’d always been good with instruments, having been able to pick them up and play by instinct although the guitar was where his true talent lay, but the piano was pretty easy and he was proficient enough to pick out the basics until he got bored and started improvising until they were done with their fussing and the night ended with a singalong, their voices joining his in something like a harmony. Belle had been smiling ever since he began, swaying in time as she diligently worked, but, as he sat there on the piano bench, with Bae next to him and Belle standing behind him with her father looming over everything, Gold could honestly say that this fucked up version of Christmas was the happiest he’d ever been.

*

“So, uh, here’s a shirt you can wear,” Gold said, pulling out a soft, well-worn t-shirt from the dresser underneath the window. He handed it to her, flicking his eyes up to hers for a brief moment before looking at the toes of his shoes with a slight cough.

Belle took it from him with a mumbled thank you feeling ten kinds of embarrassed. What was the proper etiquette when accepting impromptu sleepwear from a man you’ve barely met, but have already had sex with and whose room you’ve pretty much stolen due to lack of space?

She walked him to the door and awkwardly stood there before reaching up on her tip toes to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you in the morning then,” she said quietly so as not to wake up her father who was asleep on the couch.

He smiled sweetly at her, “Yeah. Sweet dreams, Belle,” he told her before going off to bunk in his son’s room.

*

Bae was the first one up on Christmas Eve morning, shortly joined by Moe, who had slept on the couch. Having had years of practice being an only parent to a young child, he dug out the ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes and soon the cottage was filled with the sweet aroma of syrup and burnt sugar.

Belle was up next, rubbing her eyes and wearing Gold’s oversized, fluffy bathrobe. Moe said nothing, but shoved a cup of hot coffee in her hand then turned back to the stove to flip the next batch of pancakes.

*

The four of them spent the morning on the family slopes, standing in line among the crowded slopes while a soft, fresh snow fell, ignoring the obvious stares of the people who recognized Gold underneath the layers of wool and Gore-Tex. Some people took pictures and a few were brave enough to ask for an autograph “for their cousin in the midwest, they love your music”, which Gold did with good nature and a rueful smile towards his son, who waited anxiously for his father to get back into the line for the inner tubes.

Gold barely left his son’s side, patiently waiting their turn down the hills, letting him steer them into the steep embankment of snow until they were nearly soaked through. They went back to the cottage for lunch and hot chocolate and a sorely needed nap when Bae had a meltdown after making a snowman just off their front porch.

Gold took it all in stride, keeping up with his son and, except for a few of the more eager fans back on the hill, his attention was focused solely on his son and their guests the entire day.

Belle and Moe were cleaning up the kitchen while he got Bae to sleep, keeping the clinking of the plates and glasses down so as not to disturb them.

“You know, Gold’s not at all like I would have expected given the posters you used to have up in your room,” Moe said, speaking softly.

Belle, fully knowing that she still had one or two on the walls of her bedroom back in Seattle, nearly dropped a plate on the floor. “Hm? How do you mean?”

“Well, he comes off as brooding and disturbed in the pictures. He’s not at all like that —he’s a good man.”

She stared at him, waiting for the rest of it. “Well, yeah, you can’t judge someone by how they look in a photoshoot right?”

“He’s a good father, too,” he continued, quietly. “He’s the type of man that should be surrounded by kids all the time.”

She giggled and shook her head. “Maybe he can switch gears and make a children’s album. Give Raffi a run for his money.”

Moe chuckled alongside his daughter. “I think he’d be good at it. And should have about nine more kids. I like him.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Belle wistfully before she remembered who she was talking to. She stayed quiet for a moment then said, “You’re right, he is a wonderful father.” She bumped her hip against his, playfully. “And so are you.” She gave him a bright smile before turning back to the sink. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too, Sunshine,” Moe told her, gently. “Me, too.”

* * *

Gold, still in his woolen socks, quickly tiptoed away from the doorway. He hadn’t meant to overhear, he had just wanted to let Bae sleep for as long as possible before the went back out again so he crept towards the kitchen thinking to grab a snack and talk to Belle a bit while his son napped.

No one had ever told him he was a good person before. Not Milah, not the press, not even his own bandmates, but here were these two strangers who, after one day, decided he was not only a good man, but a good father to boot. It opened a wound he thought had calcified long ago and the tears came hot and heavy and painful before he knew what was happening.

*

The flurry of wrapping paper died down leaving the adults sitting, mouths agape, as Bae exclaimed over his gifts. Gold had obviously brought presents with them and Moe had packed up theirs as well as buying a few extra things for the boy, but for Gold there wasn’t anything other than a new pack of guitar picks, lovingly wrapped up in a page from the comics and given by Bae.

“I picked it out all by myself!” he told his dad proudly as he was wrapped up in a hug and squeezed until he struggled to get away.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” Gold told him truthfully.

*

“Yeah, so, this is my cell phone number, the number to my house phone in Glasgow, my agent’s number, my manager’s number, my housekeeper’s number, the number to my place in LA…” Gold trailed off, red-faced and ready to sink into the snow. “So, you know, if you want to get in touch with me you can.”

Belle stared at the sheet of paper in her hands. This was enough information to pay for next semester if she was a cruel woman. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling as she handed him a folded piece of paper with her dorm phone and address written on it. “I’m gonna have a week off in March,” she told him after a brief mental pep talk. “I could… fly out?”

His answering smile made the butterflies in her stomach soar and if it wasn’t for the presence of Bae and her father, she would have knocked him to the ground right then and there. “I’d like that, Belle.”

*

Rory stared down at Belle with her arms crossed over her chest and a tight, pinched look between her eyes.  “Something you want to tell me?” she asked accusingly.

Belle looked up from her Fruit Loops, spoon halfway from the bowl to her mouth. “Um… no?”

Rory slapped a tabloid on the table in front of her, the cover of which was emblazoned with blurry pictures of Gold, Bae, and Belle all bundled up on the kiddie slopes in Maine.

Her heart sank into her stomach and she pushed her cereal away in disgust. She hadn’t thought of the tabloids picking up the story. As far as she knew no one was aware of her presence in Gold’s life, but there were ways of finding things out she supposed. She wondered what Gold was thinking. Did he know? His publicist was probably already publically declaring them “just friends.”

“Um…”

Rory sat down next to Belle and put her arm around her shoulder, bringing her into a warm hug. “Are you quite sure you don’t want to talk?”

“Not right now,” Belle mumbled into her shoulder. “I need to speak to Gold first.”

*

The phone woke him up at what felt like an indecent hour, but when he peeled open his eyelids he realized that it was past seven in the morning and that he’d fallen asleep on top of a heavy law tome. Gold fumbled for the phone, knocking the receiver off the handle and onto the floor. He muffled a curse lest the other person on the line was his son, and picked it up and yawned out a hello.

“Hey, it’s me, uh, Belle?” The sweet voice on the other end said. As if he could forget her.

He sat up, stretching his arms over his head while keeping the phone tucked under his chin. It was an art form he’d learned after years of hard traveling.

“I’m so glad you called!” he said, inordinately pleased that she’d made the first move. He’d planned on calling her that afternoon, but she’d beat him to it. “How are you, Sweetheart?”

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she began and he felt his insides turn into jelly. She was breaking up with him, that can be the only reason why anyone began a phone call like this. He slumped in the chair with his head in his hand, fingers pulling at the roots of his hair until he’d caught on to what she was actually saying.

“Wait, run that by me again?”

She gave an exasperated sigh and started over, “We’re all over the Enquirer. You, me, Bae. Someone sold their vacation pictures to the tabloids. Who does that?”

He blinked. “Is that— is that all?”

“All? You should read what they’re saying. I’m a snowbunny! And… and…”

He groaned to himself. He was used to being tabloid fodder, but this was all new to Belle.

“Look, Belle, this isn’t a big deal. I’m on the cover of something every week whether I want to be or not, and, yeah, I mean it’s a shock the first time it happens and I get it if you want to… If you want to…”

“Are you asking me if I don’t want to see you again?” she asked and Gold could practically hear her frowning.

“I, uh, yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, the answer is no! I will not let these people intimidate me.” She was silent before asking cautiously. “Unless you don’t want to see me again?”

The sound of her sweet voice coming though meekly like that felt like a stab in the gut. “No! No, I very much want to see you again.” He paused before teasing her, “Snowbunny.”

He’d always cherish the sound of her giggle. “Shut up,” she said, though he could tell that she didn’t mean it.

“I was thinking of coming up in about a week,” he said, nervous now. “Does that work for you?”

There was the sound of some ruffling papers before she answered. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean I have classes, but I have time.”

“Good. Good. Then I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.”

This time he knew she was smiling.

*

(some weeks afterwards)

“Hey, before I go, I was wondering,” Gold began, his voice coming over the phone sounding nervous, but hopeful. “Well, I mean, I know we haven’t really been together all that long and all, and I know how difficult it is with press being everywhere and people taking pictures and being fucking nosey and stuff, but…”

“Just spit it out, Gold,” Belle interrupted with a laugh.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he finished, “How’d you like to go to the Grammys with me?”

*

The lights, the screaming, the impertinent and invasive questions… Gold was used to all of it, so his main concern was keeping Belle comfortable as he walked the red carpet with Belle in tow. He hadn’t gone to one of these things with a date in years so the press was having a field day with it, especially once they figured out that his date was the mystery woman he’d been spotted with over the Christmas holidays. He deflected the questions like a pro, but could see a few of the braver reporters sniffing around Belle so he rushed through the line and shuffled their way past Ice T and Keith Richards who were at the end of the line before entering the Shrine Auditorium.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Belle whispered in his ear, her excitement palpable amid the buzz as star after star entered the grand foyer.

“Yeah, it’s pretty overwhelming the first few times,” he agreed before realizing that made him sound like a pompous prick. Better change the subject. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

And she did, though it wasn’t a surprise to him since Belle was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He had offered to buy her a gown or, at the very least, get a top designer to lend one to her, but she’d politely declined it saying she knew someone who could help her with it, he’d backed away. She’d flown into Los Angeles with a suitcase in one hand and a garment bag in the other, but, even though she slept in his room, he hadn’t seen what she’d procured until she stepped out of his room in a gold, glittering, slinky, strapless gown. It wasn’t until she twirled around for him that he realized that the gown was slit all the way up to her thigh and he knew he’d have to fight off some very important names before the night was through. He had confidence in Belle, though, which his therapist would have crowed at if he knew.

Now, as they were hovering at the bar, watching her watch the room as it filled with the most famous names in music. She glanced up at him, shyly. “I feel like Cinderella,” she confessed. ‘Except my handsome prince is a handsome rockstar and, fortunately, you know my name and where I live.”

“And you wear a size five and a half shoe.”

She looked at him open mouthed before laughing at his smug face.  

“You know we’re not gonna win tonight, right?” he told her with a wry smile.

“I bet you five dollars you do,” she said and he just chuckled as he bent down to kiss her cheek before catching up with the rest of the band. It was time they met Belle.

*

Belle stood amid Gold’s bandmates trying not to turn into goo in front of them, but she’d spent a lot of her time free time nearly worshiping these people that it was impossible not to be at least a little star struck.

She was introduced to Jefferson, and to Whale, then Dave Nolan and why hadn’t anyone ever told her how handsome they all were in real life? She never would have traded Gold for anything, but nothing prepared her for the wall of sheer sex that the band, as a whole, exuded when they were all together. She didn’t want to admit to them that she’d stalked the band for years through magazines and MTV and interviews and concerts and that she knew more about their private lives than they’d liked.  

She knew that Jefferson was married to the pretty blonde woman standing next to him protectively and that they had a daughter named after Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane and that Jefferson itself was his stage name. And that Whale had been accepted to medical school before their first single hit, but had decided to stay with the band instead of pursuing his father’s dream of becoming a doctor. And that Nolan had met his wife at Disneyland during a press tour and they had been inseparable ever since. And Gold… Well, she knew everything about Gold. From how he took his tea, to how wonderful he was to Bae and how scared he was to fuck it all up, to what he tasted like on her tongue — she knew it all and she felt dizzy with it.

“Hey,” she said, shyly, barely able to look at them lest they figure out her secret.

*

They sat in the limo, looking at the line of trophies on the floor. Belle had helped carry them out and she was surprised at how heavy they actually were. Each one had been engraved and every member of the band had received one.

“Sorry you didn’t win Best Video,” she told him, laughing.

He groaned into his hands. “I hate making videos. They’re stupid.”

“Is that why it’s almost always concert footage?”

“Yeah. Jefferson gets into it, but, it’s not really my thing.”

“Where are you going to put them? Mantle? Bathroom?”

“Nah, I have a box in the closet.”

Belle sputtered, shaking her head at him before she pulled him down into a kiss. “You’re gonna need a bigger box.”

*

(the band discusses Belle)

“So what did you think of her?”

The question hung in the air like a lead balloon. No one wanted to answer it, but seeing as there was no one in the room that wasn’t a band member, they could deal with a little gossip. At least until Gold came in to break it up.

David scratched at his ear with his drumstick as he mulled the question over. “I dunno, she seems okay. I mean, it’s weird that he even brought someone because he hasn’t dated since Milah, but it’s time he’s started back up again, you know? She seemed nice enough. Hard to get to know someone at an awards ceremony. _He_ was devoted. _She_ seemed… well, she was nervous. Can’t blame her, _I_ was nervous.”

Victor nodded his head in agreement. “We’re probably getting a new album out of it.”

David turned to him. “Break up albums usually sell better than sappy love songs though.”

Jefferson chuckled, tipping his hat back on his perfectly coiffed head. “We don’t do sappy.”

“Think he’ll go solo?” Victor casually asked as he turned to his keyboard.

David and Jefferson looked at each other blankly.

“No?” David said uncertainly, shaking his head.

Victor’s fingers hovered over the keyboard before he brought them down, picking out a melody.

“Whatcha got?”

He shrugged. “Touring’s over, we’re in studio to write a new album, figured I’d get started. Gold’s the lyric man, but I’m the only one that knows how to read music.” He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.

Just then Gold strode in with a bounce in his step they hadn’t seen in years.  “Let’s get started then,” he called out, happily.

*

(a long while later)

Belle awoke to the sound of breaking china and kicked the covers off, getting her feet tangled up in them on the floor then ran towards the kitchen where she found Gold hunched over a chipped cup. He wasn’t sobbing, not yet, but he wasn’t screaming obscenities either, which was a huge improvement over the first time she’d experienced this.  

She wrapped herself around him, holding him close to her when he finally broke. His shoulders shook and he cried into his hands while she rocked him, crooning nonsense into his ears until he calmed down with hitching, jerking breaths.

Belle brushed the tears from his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, kissing the salt trails away before leaning back to look at him. “She said no?”

*

(Fast forward several months)

The setting was intimate and he was able to look at almost everyone in the audience in the face, no matter which way he turned, which unsettled Gold somewhat, but he preferred an in-the-round experience to the large venues they’d toured in. Sometimes he missed the small clubs they had started out in, they seemed more real, more authentic, but they struck it big accidentally and they had found themselves stars almost overnight and now, playing a small club was impossible unless they wanted a riot on their hands.

MTV had contacted them about the possibility of doing an unplugged concert, and the band had immediately jumped on it. It would be the first time anyone outside the studio heard their new music, always a risk in concerts, but Gold was proud of their new album and couldn’t wait to get the audience’s reaction.

A performer at heart, he nevertheless was a pacing ball of nerves before every show and this time was no different. While they were waiting backstage for the MC to warm up the crowd and the cameras to get in position, he went over the set list in his head.  They’d start with some of their old stuff and then gradually introduce the new material.

He pulled the strap to his guitar over his neck and under his shoulder, propping the body on his knee and he gave the crowd a nod before he took the pick from his teeth and began the first strains to Land Without Magic — the song he’d written when Bae was born — getting right into into it after a short, “thank you for coming.” They would each say something later on, but the audience was here for music, not a lecture.

He’d save Belle’s song for last, Flicker of Light was going to be their biggest hit yet, he could feel it.

*

“You didn’t tell me you were going to do that,” Belle told him over the phone, trying to sound stern, but she couldn’t stop smiling and she knew it came through. She wouldn’t admit it, not when her best friends were staring at her. She couldn’t tell if they were happy or not.

_She_ was happy. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to have a song written for them? Why did they have to be so weird about it? She made a face and turned her back to them, taking the phone into the other room where she should have been in to begin with. First thing Monday morning she would see about getting a cell phone.

The sound of his rich laugh came through and set her heart aflutter. “What did you expect when you started dating a musician? You get poetry set to music. Which is, coincidentally, exactly… ” He stopped and sighed heavily and in the distance she could hear the distant sound of an elevator ding. He must have been just walking out of the studio then. “I can’t explain it, Belle, you just… you give me hope. And I didn’t expect to ever find it again…” He stopped once more then, in a voice that broke, “Am I on—am I on speaker phone?”

“No!” she cried out, looking behind her to make sure no one snuck up to eavesdrop. She didn’t expect her friends would, but that was before she started dating Rum Gold and they started acting odd. “No, it’s just us.”

“I love you, Belle,” he breathed.

Her knees went out on her and she slumped to the floor with her hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart. She huffed out a strangled noise which must have confused him. “I love you, too. I can’t-I can’t believe you just— I wish you were here,” she choked out, trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably.

“Yeah, you should maybe open your door.”

She looked up, stupidly, then scrambled to her feet and out of her room, past her gaping roommates to the front door, where, after throwing it open, Gold stood with his phone pressed against his ear.

He lowered it, sheepishly and tucked it into his front jeans pocket. “Hey.”

Belle gasped, hands over her mouth before she launched herself at him, wrapping herself around him as he caught her, planting kisses on his face where ever she could make contact.

“How did you even get here so fast?” she whispered into his ear.

“We recorded the session hours ago,” he murmured into her hair. “I took the first flight out.”

“You came all the way here? For me?” she asked, wonderingly.

He pulled back to look at her incredulously. “Course I did. You expect me to stay away?”

She shook her head, her face still pressed against his neck. “No, not any more.”

* * *

She bought about fifty copies of the single and gave them away to her friends as birthday presents whether they liked the band or not.

*

(The next Christmas)

“You couldn’t get her to change her mind?” Belle asked gingerly, rubbing Gold’s back in soothing circles. A year ago this would have sent Gold into a disconsolate rage, sending the phone and anything not nailed down flying through the window, but the time spent with Belle and his new therapist seemed to have helped him a lot when it came to interactions with his ex-wife. She was still diabolical and evil, he insisted, but he handled her better now. It was as if her vicious words couldn’t touch him anymore.

He shook his head. “It’s her year legally, but uh, she did say that she had plans on New Year’s and that maybe I could have him then,” he told her in awe and Belle couldn’t blame him because a year ago she would never have made that kind of an offer without a court order. She squeezed him tight, pouring all of her love into an embrace that he seemed to crave, holding him close until the the sun sunk beneath the horizon, the sky awash in pink light. He looked up at her then, with a shy tiny smile that sent her heart thumping against her ribs like a wild and caged bird.

“You know what today is?” he asked.

“Tuesday?” she teased because of course she knew. As if she could ever forget.

“Besides that,” he said, nudging her with a shoulder.

She huffed a soft laugh then exchanged places with him, curling up in his arms until she was snuggled up close and safe and loved. “Of course I do. It’s the day all my dreams came true.”

*

A year ago, Belle would never have imagined that she would meet Dick Clark, but now here she was shaking hands with the man — more nervous to meet him than she was the other members of Gold’s band. She wore a lanyard around her neck with a large all-access backstage pass inserted into the plastic sleeve and held Bae’s hand in a death grip lest he get lost in the labyrinth of the makeshift backstage. This was the first time she and Bae had spent any real alone time together and she was both excited that Gold trusted her with his beloved son during such a hectic time and terrified that something awful would happen while she was in charge.

They had a small room all to themselves while the band was out doing interviews or pre-performance checks and they retreated to it whenever Bae felt overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise, but they ventured out when he recharged and was ready to join the other people celebrating the turn of the new year.

Gold and his band were set to perform next and there was no way either Belle or Bae were going to miss it, so they made their way to the wings and stood waving at Gold who was on the other side of the stage, waiting to be introduced to the roaring crowd that packed Times Square. He nodded at them, a shy smile on his face then gave them a quick thumb’s up before Dick Clark waved them on amid a deafening wave of sound that threatened to drown out the musicians instruments.

She double-checked to be sure Bae’s ear protection was on firmly (strict instructions from Gold lest his son’s hearing was damaged by the noise) then sat back as they tore through a grungy version of “Jingle Belle Rock.”

*

It seems like a great idea at the time: slip the ring into the cupcake and then present the treat to Belle. Watch her take a dainty bite out of it and then watch her eyes pop when she finds the ring. Hopefully there would be a “yes” thrown in there, but he’s 98.4% certain that she will agree to marry him.

What Rum didn’tt expect was Belle shoving the entire thing in her mouth with a cheeky look in her sparkling blue eyes and then _biting_ _down_ …

“Wha waz tha?” she asked, holding an ice pack to her swollen cheek as the dentist, called in for the emergency, set up his work station in preparations to fix Belle’s shattered molar.

Rum looked up from the corner chair where he was slouched, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he waited for Belle to kill him once her tooth was fixed. Well, maybe not kill him, but yell at him for being an idiot.  Well, maybe not _yell_ , because she hasn’t yelled at him since they met, not for things he didn’t deserve at least, but this was an accident he caused and he felt terrible about it.

“It was a ring,” he mumbled into the cupped fingers over his mouth. She was laid out on the dentist’s chair, the top of her short, red dress was already covered with a paper bib and her legs with the cotton blanket the practice provided to their customers. The toes of her outrageous heels peeked out from underneath and, even though she was in pain, she still tried to smile at him.

“A wha?” she asked, lowering the ice pack. The pain in her mouth had dulled her wits somewhat.

“He said it was a ring!” the dentist told her, merrily, as if they hadn’t interrupted his own date at nine o’clock at night on a Sunday. On Valentine’s Day no less. The insurance would pay for the procedure, but Rum offered to throw in extra for the inconvenience — enough to make it worth leaving the opera to attend to Belle.

Belle’s sparkling blue eyes widened just as Rum knew they would and she tried to sit up, but the dentist had already turned on the light and told her to lay back and open her mouth so he could assess the damage.

Belle emitted a long string of vowel sounds as he stuck a mirror in and poked at her with a wicked looking hooked probe then gave a tiny scream as it hit a spot she didn’t like.

“Sorry,” the dentist told her, unfazed by the outburst. “Yep, it’s gone, but there’s enough to use as an anchor. I can give you a temporary cap tonight, but you’ll have to come back in a week for the replacement. Or we can take the tooth out and you can get an implant, but that will take another two visits.”

The sound of a door slamming and voices in the waiting room interrupted him, then, as they all looked up towards the hallway, the sound of stomping heels came closer as a woman in full-on outrage threw her purse in the corner and glared at the dentist.

She began washing her hands vigorously at the sink, her sparkling green dress giving off a disco ball effect in the harsh light of the dental office and she spoke to him as if there was no one else in the room.

“I was having _dinner_ ,” she told him, clearly irritated. “At a restaurant without crayons on the table or a children’s menu.” She tore off some paper towels from the dispenser and stomped over to her boss, standing over him as she aggressively dried her hands at him. She glanced at Belle and gave a sympathetic smile before turning to her boss with a withering glare. “Last time I do this,” she warned him before turning to put on a pair of gloves. “My date is waiting in the lobby.”

Gold just put his face back in his hands and tried to will time to reverse so he never put the ring in Belle’s cupcake in the first place. He ruined everyone’s night by trying to be cute and he would never live it down.

“Ring?” Belle asked, again. “Wha ring?”

The dentist cleared his throat awkwardly, “It seems Mr. Gold put a ring in your food, Miss French.”

There was a resounding crash as the hygienist dropped the tray of instruments at the sound of Gold’s name and everyone looked at her as she gaped at him.

“I…I’m so sorry,” she said, picking up the mess as fast as she could. “I’ll have this sent through the autoclave at once.”

“Ashley, for—” the dentist sighed heavily before continuing with a great deal of restraint. “Good. Good. I’ll get Miss French numbed up and, um, give them a bit of privacy until we’re ready.”

Belle squeezed her eyes shut as the Novacaine was injected, but she didn’t make any more sounds. The dentist and Ashley left them alone while they prepared their  

“Cupcake,” he said, miserably. “It was supposed to be cute.”

“F’was cute,” Belle mumbled, half her mouth hanging down as the other half smiled at him. Her head had turned towards him and she held out a hand which he took and squeezed tightly. “Ring tho—?

“Yeah,” he said, shyly. “A ring. Because…” He trailed off, then took out the pocket square from his jacket and tried to wipe away the tear streaks from under her eyes. Belle didn’t believe in waterproof mascara apparently. “I’m so sorry, Belle,” he told her, laying his forehead on her shoulder.

“Din know I’d shove i’ in my mouf,” she reminded him with a chuckle and he found himself giggling along with her at the memory of the way the frosting squished out on the sides of her mouth as she stuffed the whole thing in.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, looking up at her.

“Gir’ of many tawenths, tha’s me,” she told him bumping his head with her nose. “S’okay, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded his head, still feeling like crap, but Belle, even through her pain, knew how to make him feel better. It was one of the many amazing things he loved about her. He sat back and dug his hand into his pocket then held out a sticky, frosting encrusted diamond ring.

“For me?” she asked, looking at it and him in turns, her eyes lighting up. “Ring?”

“Ring,” he agreed. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yeth, of courth I wi’w!” she cried out. He lifted his head more and she brought hers closer and sloppily gave him half a kiss that he would always treasure.

“I can’ bewieve you put i’ in the cubcake,” she told him, the bout of giggles coming back.

“Well, I… I wanted it to be something memorable,” he admitted with a blush.

“I pwomith you, I wi’w never forge’ i’.”

*

(Fast forward a decade)

Gold leaned against the doorway not paying attention to the stares of the kids passing in the hallway. They would get used to him eventually, soon he would be just another dad.

“You got everything you need,” he asked knowing the answer. His son was privileged to the extreme and wanted for nothing now, but he was a father first and foremost and he had to ask.

A small hand touched him on the shoulder and he looked down to see Belle smiling up at him a bit misty-eyed, but excited for Bae. She had one hand on top of her swollen belly and, at her leg and holding her skirt, was Souixsie, their second oldest child together. “You’ll see him at Thanksgiving,” she whispered, giving him an encouraging smile

He gave her a crooked smile. “You know, neither of us actually celebrate that.”

“No, but our children do and he’ll be home in two and a half months,” she pointed out, reasonably. “You have to let go.”

He sighed heavily knowing she was right, but it was difficult to do. He’d fought so long and so hard for Bae and now he was leaving for college, having his own adventures without him or Belle. He was proud of course, but anxious and, even though they shared their official address still, this was the beginning of the end for this part of their relationship. Soon Bae wouldn’t be coming home at all and Gold missed him already.

He let go of his death grip on the doorjamb and bent down to pick up Souixsie and brought her into Bae’s dorm where he was busy sorting through a box on his bed. “Say bye to Bae, sweetie.”

Souixsie tipped forward, wrapping her arms around Bae’s neck, squeezing him tight until Bae protested that he couldn’t breath. Gold peeled her arms off of his oldest son then gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek. “You are like your mum, sweetpea. She’s a squeezer, too.”

Bae rolled his eyes at him then walked up to Belle and, mindful of her belly, hugged her goodbye. She proved Gold to be right, though when she immediately grasped at him, letting her face fall momentarily before she pulled back and was all smiles again.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” she asked, gesturing to Gold and Souixsie with a hand. They needed to beat Angus home from school.

“Bye, Dad,” Bae said, smiling brightly as they walked out. “Bye, Mom.”


End file.
